VI FESTIVAL DE JEREZ. RAFAEL JIMÉNEZ 'FALO'

It's not all verve

Silvia Calado Olivo. Jerez, 7th March 2002

Credits. Rafael Jiménez 'Falo': cante (vocals). Canito, Arcadio Marín: toque (guitar). Luis Escribano: double bass. Venue: Palacio de Villavicencio. Jerez de la Frontera (Cadiz province), 7th March 2002. 7pm.

Falo, Canito and Arcadio Marín (Photo: Daniel Muñoz)

Between Asturias in Spain's lush Northwest and Jerez in the balmy Southwest, runs an unusual Flamenco trail. At the present time, only Rafael Jiménez 'Falo' has a permit to use it. The daring recital, not recommended for the orthodox, was brought all the way to the intimate evening slot at Villavicencio palace... the intimacy as much a relief for the inept (maybe that should read inapt) as it was for the cantaor 'Falo' himself. The fact that his voice didn't manage to prevail over the instruments in the opening part of the performance highlighted its weaknesses: a nasal tone, convoluted, timid. From the stalls, the public was still trying to take in the performance: so solemn, so sombre, so liturgical. Where is the rhyming soniquete? Where is the flow? Neither one of them is there - this is something totally different, not by intentional mutilation, it's just different. And an uneasy difference it is too. 'Falo' managed to find his feet with a seguiriya, which set the tone for the remainder of the sacramental proceedings. The 'cantaor' preached on foot, singing malagueñas, crucifying the air. The accompaniment tautened the vocals, tentative pizzicato notes from the double-bass... the trembling crystal chandeliers. And the atmosphere tasted of the dust of centuries, yellowed, traditional. A change of format: 'cante y toque', vocals and guitar. A soleá. "Que no me querías, pero hice la intención de verte y no olvidarte en la vida" (You didn't love me, but I made a vow to see you and to never forget you). Romance... that recovered jewel, long sought-after, although somehow from the lips of 'Falo' or 'Phallus' songs of romance bring to mind stories of nuns... A shiver runs down my spine. Even the tangos sound liturgical. At this stage in the game, the group has established beyond doubt that musically the recital is predictable, structured, precise, in harmony. A little unusual. Next up is a Cartagenera. The vocals, blunted. Cradlesong. Tidy, whispering, down-tempo. All of the performers are musicians, ten out of ten for feeling, zero for verve. Maybe they should be measured using a different yardstick, maybe theirs is a quest, or simply a desire to carry on a tradition. It was their aunt, Tía Chata, who first passed the song of the cowherds through the flamenco sieve, up there in the principality of Asturias. And a tiny nomadic minority left home singing bulerías, even though it was in their native Asturian dialect.

Rafael Jiménez 'Falo' with bassist Luis Escribano (Photo: Daniel Muñoz)